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The man in the frame

4/25/2017

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Setting off from Sydney on what they thought would be an adventure of a lifetime.
I never met Harold. His short but distinguished life ended a year before I was born. The family never mentioned him and his large, gold-framed portrait on my grandmother’s wall seemed a lone reminder of a life cut short. I grew up fascinated by this good-looking man whose eyes portrayed a love of life. I knew he’d been killed in Egypt in WWII but little did I understand then, the pain that had locked away the memories.
 
In one of those unexpected moments in life, I was given a box that contained all that was left of Harold’s life. From side notes in his logbook I tasted the excitement and passion of a young man caught up in a daring adventure and the fear and panic that struck hard in the midst of action.
 
A small well-worn photo album introduced me to his mates and their dog “Boozer” and graphically portrayed the desolation of life in the desert. His beaming smile and twinkling eyes assured me that he was still living life to the full. Sixty years after his death, I met the man, pieced together the story of his life and understood.
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Harold far right
He was in the first intake of Australians sent to Southern Rhodesia, Africa, under the Empire Air Training Scheme. The first intake included licensed pilots and men like Harold, who had never been inside an aeroplane … seven surf life saving guards, a motor mechanic, bank clerks and accountants, an interstate rugby league player and a jackeroo.
 
It must have seemed quite an adventure for this twenty-year old from Rockdale, Sydney.  His introduction to flying on 30 December 1940 familiarised him with the cockpit and controls of a Tiger Moth.  Just twelve days later he made his first solo flight. 

He went on to train on the Harvard, Wellesly, Lysander and Hurricane aircraft before joining the 451 Squadron, RAF in the Middle East when life as a fighter pilot began in earnest. He was mainly involved in tactical reconnaissance, photoreconnaissance and air testing, but not without mishaps.
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In a letter to my dad in 1941,
I was shot down the other day for the first and I hope the last time. Two of us were surprised from behind by five or six Messerschmitt 109s.  I dived steeply, turned sharply, evading an attack from below, but flattening out, I found the same one on my tail again.  I dived right onto the ‘deck’ and then it started.
 
I threw him off my tail several times but each time he guessed my next move and was back again.  Eventually, as he crossed my tail a cannon-shell struck the wing.
           
The shrapnel cut the cooling system and also my leg.  At first I just heard a bang, felt an awful burn, and then my leg went numb.  I had to work fast then and did some amazingly crazy flying, which threw his aim right off.  I reached within half a mile of the drome and then he disappeared.  Anyway, I live to tell the tale and boy I am going to practise like mad to even things up.


Life in the desert was hard and cruel and the long hours of waiting seemed endless, it was better to be fighting than spending hours playing cards, enduring heat and sandstorms. An entry in his logbook in January 1942 reads: “Hurray, we’ve finished our desert time.  We go back to the Delta tomorrow.  Oh boy, for a really hot bath and a nice cold beer. The kites have just gone off, the trucks are nearly all packed. WE’RE OFF.”

On 17 February 1942 his log book entry read, ‘Nice kite. I’m going to call her “Kathleen May.”’
There’s a family photo of Harold and my father in uniform before Harold left for Rhodesia. Harold is arm in arm with a pretty, dark haired girl about five foot two.  What dreams did they have? What plans for the future before war intervened? Was she Kathleen May?   
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In 1943 he was appointed to the 213 Squadron RAF. He was involved in action in the Libyan campaign and later in Syria, also taking part in the strafing of the islands of Rhodes and Crete.
 
The war dragged on. His log paints the picture… Lonely trip … As usual no co-operation from the troops … Feeling very low today …  O’Donnell killed. Force landed in Cyprus …and after just two days training on a Spitfire, now I’m supposed to be operational on Spits, how bloody funny… Bags of panic today.  July 1943 …What a place, sand storms all day,  I’ve had this …  It’s on, we’re going to do Crete’…’Good old “K” goes like a bomb.  I hope it keeps up.  I’ve got that “old feeling” ‘.
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Flight Lieutenant Harold Rowlands was killed in a non-operational flight north of Damanhur, Egypt, on 25 March 1944, just weeks before he was due to return to Australia. 
 
He was testing a new aircraft. His Commanding Officer explained it this way: “He was engaged on a special test of great importance, the nature of which, due to circumstances necessitating absolute secrecy, I am unable to divulge.”
 
He was buried with full military honours at Hadra Cemetery in Alexandria, Egypt.  He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and in part the Citation read: “Flight Lieutenant Rowlands has conducted a noteworthy tour of operations during which he has displayed a high degree of skill, great keenness and determination. This officer is a most efficient flight commander whose fine leadership and personal example have been worthy of great praise.”

My grandparents had already lost two daughters in infancy, what must they have felt as they read, "Deeply regret to inform you that your son Flight Lieutenant Harold Rowland Rowlands previously classified as missing, has lost his life on twenty fifth March 1944. Stop."

 
He hung on the lounge room wall, good-looking, fun loving and just twenty-three years old… a family’s hopes and dreams shattered. Grandma had a new dress made and grandpa dug out the suit he only wore for weddings and funerals to go to Parliament House to receive the posthumously awarded DFC. But the pride and joy were overshadowed by grief and the painful memories were locked away. Now I understand something of the sadness that my grandmother carried with her for the rest of her life.
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Ten things my father taught me

4/18/2017

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Agatha Christie once said, "One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life, is to have a happy childhood".

I was one of those fortunate people. 
We didn’t have much money. The war had just ended and times were tough but I remember pillow fights and piggybacks, discovery walks in nature, a handmade doll’s house and a dad who was always there for me. 
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He would have just turned 107. I miss him as much today as I did 24 years ago when he left us. He was an exceptional man, a deep thinker and someone whose love was both strong and tender.  He could turn his hand to anything and I've been pondering on some of the things he taught me which have significantly shaped my life.

1. Don’t put it down, put it away
This was a rule in my childhood home and one I adopted when my children were growing up. It means there’s never a clutter to clean up later. How tempting to put something down intending to come back to put it away “when I get time” but one thing builds on another and before you know it there’s a big mess to put away. I still catch myself saying it 
sometimes if I'm tempted to put something down instead of away.
 
2. If its worth doing its worth doing well
No half measures with my father, he believed in giving 100% to everything he did. He taught me to prioritise, to do what is important or valuable and then do it with all my heart.
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3. To live without limitations - to explore possibilities
My dad taught self-belief. That I could achieve anything I wanted to do if I was prepared to put in the hard work and not give up. It may require learning along the way and maybe finding help, but with perseverance I could accomplish anything. I’ve proved this to be true so many times in my life … done things I could never have thought possible.

4. Stickativeness
The dictionary tells me there is no such word but I was taught it meant never give up until the job is completed … finish what you started. There’s a great satisfaction in finishing one thing completely before starting something else and you aren’t left with numerous half finished jobs, which often lead to frustration because you don’t feel like you are achieving anything.

5. Give without expecting a reward
Give freely and generously without wanting anything in return. Whether the gift is money, time or experience, giving should always be unconditional or it isn’t truly a gift.

My father had a favourite quote, "I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to a fellow human being; let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again". Generally attributed to Etienne de Grellet, a Quaker missionary.
 
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6. Respect and kindness
I was taught to show respect to anyone who came across my path, to treat him or her with dignity and kindness irrespective of who they were or what they did. Dad taught me respect and care for nature, for tools, for all belongings, mine and those of others. It was not a throw-away-and-get-another-one era. My father had lived through the depression and the war years when you didn't throw out a shirt because the collar frayed, you turned the collar, you didn't throw out socks when they got a hole in the toe, you darned them and when the sole of your shoe wore out you resoled them.

7. To think for myself
Dad challenged me to think for myself ... rationally and logically ... to reason and consider carefully what I was being told and not to accept things at face value. To consider consequences. He encouraged me to read widely and be curious and interested in the world around me. As I got older we would debate late into the night, about politics, science, the wonders of the universe and the mysteries of God. He instilled in me a hunger and thirst for knowledge while warning me that knowledge without the wisdom to apply it can be dangerous. 

8. About relating to children
My dad knew the importance of getting down to a child’s level to relate well to them. Even though he had a serious heart condition, a chronic spinal problem and debilitating arthritis, he always found a way to get down on the floor and play with my children and they loved him for it. It’s been a lesson I learnt by example and now enjoy with my grandchildren.


9. Preparation is key
The end result always depends on preparation. A good paint job is only achieved if the surface is well prepared beforehand. A garden only thrives when the soil is properly prepared before planting. A good presentation requires good preparation.  Preparation is key to most things ... no short cuts.

10. Work hard
My father didn’t tolerate laziness but he had a way of making work interesting and often fun. I think the secret was that he got us working with him and he taught us valuable lessons along the way. So much of what I’ve been able to do throughout life I learnt from him as a child. He included me in everything from painting, gardening, polishing the car, cleaning the shoes (done every Saturday morning) resoling shoes (I hated the smell of the glue) , cleaning and polishing the car and mending things around the house.

I remember when I was seven he painted my bedroom and let me choose the colours. I worked alongside him, stirring the paint, learning to store paint tins upside down, and how to clean a brush until it was as soft as a feather and put away carefully for next time. He taught me to be as diligent with the menial tasks as with the important ones, and that nothing is beneath me.

There must have been times when it would have been quicker and easier to have done things himself but he had a higher goal.  I learnt as much from his life as I ever learnt from his words.

My father began teaching my son woodwork when he was 3 years old. My son went on to become a woodwork teacher and invested in other children's lives as his grandfather had done for him.


Dad, you will be forever missed. I will always be grateful for your love, Your encouragement, your wisdom and for the imprint you left on my life.
​


Banner photo: When my father became too ill to work outside or in his workshop, he read everything he could about Kookaburras and began to study and feed the local Kookaburras as they came to his deck each day. They became firm friends. It was a wonderful distraction from the endless pain he lived with and proof to me he never gave up being involved in life.
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Eye to eye

4/11/2017

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It seems to me that the moments of our days fall into two broad categories, life giving and life taking.
 
Recently I travelled by train to visit friends on the Central Coast. It gave me an opportunity to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes, people watching. There were people of all ages, from all cultures and all shapes and sizes but they all had one thing in common. Every one of them had head bent and eyes focused on a mobile phone.
 
No eye contact, no chance to smile at someone, and apart from the ring of incoming texts and the occasional call, the carriage was silent. The man opposite me flicked through his photos and the lady next to me sent a constant stream of texts in rapid succession.
 
Is this the new ‘comfortable’ or an escape from the 'boredom' of watching out the train window or connecting with people? Or is it the need to be entertained or at least constantly occupied?
 
Don’t get me wrong, as an ex Communications Manager I see the benefits of the Internet, the usefulness of a mobile phone, the advantages of social media and the importance of email, but I sat on that train asking myself at what cost are we allowing technology to consume our lives.
 
We’ve been invited into a world where we are accessible 24/7. We are confronted daily with the man's inhumanity to man from every corner of the world, along with the horrors and loss of every natural disaster, beamed right into our living rooms on a moment-to-moment basis and all in high definition.  
 
Do we wonder why we are living with record levels of suicide, depression, drug and alcohol addictions, road rage, rape, terrorism, pornography and children experimenting with sex and crime at a younger and younger age?

Last year in total 564 people committed suicide in New Zealand, including 10 children between the ages of 10 and 14. The first suicide of a child aged between 5-9 appeared in 2012.

 
We live with unimaginable levels of stress, maybe far more than we realise and it’s life taking.  
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Of course we all have responsibilities that require us to be involved in those things that can be life taking but we can choose to balance those things by consciously investing in that which is life giving and by example encouraging our children to do the same.
 
We are losing some of the most valuable things in life – to look into one another’s eyes, to communicate face to face, to smile at a stranger, to notice someone’s joy or sorrow … to be engaged in the world around us, the person sitting next to us … the neighbour next door.


I wonder if we come out from behind the screens more often to connect with one another and take the opportunity to invest in others if there would be a little less loneliness, depression, isolation and yes even suicide. We were created for community not for isolation.

A few months ago I decided to use my evenings for things other than watching TV. I read, write and connect with friends. I watch the occasional worthwhile program but I love the new freedom with all its benefits.
 
Screens and technologies aren’t the only life taking activities in our lives, the list is long and different for each of us. But so is the number of life giving things that we can deliberately add to our lives. I challenge you to write a list of what  is life giving and what is life taking
in your life. You may be surprised. Take a few minutes to think about some life giving things you can add to your life and the lives of others.

And look into someone's eye today and smile - it might be just what they need.
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The Art of Life

4/4/2017

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I am amazed at how many people tell me they aren't creative. You don’t have to paint a masterpiece, compose an opera or write a poem to be creative. I believe creativity is the way we live our life.  
 
I once worked with a woman who told me she didn’t have a creative bone in her body. I assured her that wasn’t true. In fact she crafted serendipitous moments like no one else I’d ever met. Sometimes I’d arrive at work to a tiny surprise on my desk or chair – an encouraging note tucked somewhere unexpected or a spur of the moment lunch invitation to some new café she’d discovered.
 
It is not surprising. We are each made in the image of a creator God so creativity is part of our DNA.
 
Maybe you fill your days preparing beautiful meals or inventive snacks that excite the senses … delight the eye and bring a sensation to the palate.  Or maybe you ‘paint’ with plants and flowers, creating a garden which brings joy to all those who pass by.
 
I once knew a man who took on the role of making school lunches each morning for his children and cut them into extraordinary masterpieces, like jigsaws and animals … imaginative fun … his children never knew what would surprise them when they opened their lunch box.
 
Perhaps you’re good at creating memories. Planning that picnic, that adventure with clues, that rainy day treat or that holiday they will never forget. My daughter made a speech at her 21st birthday party and amongst other things she said that one memory she will always carry was a childhood home filled with fresh flowers in every room.

 
Or is kindness your creative bent? Are you that person who can imagine a hundred ways to show kindness and love … to family and friends, to those in need or just random acts of kindness?
 
Creativity is the way we add colour, texture and passion into our everyday lives. Imagine your day as a huge blank, white canvas. What ‘tools’ will you use to add splashes of colour and passion to your day and into the lives of others?
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Another way I picture creativity is a fork in the road. One road leads to safety and more of the same and the other to the yet to be discovered. Creativity leads us to take the road less travelled … the road of curiosity … the road to uncovering more of ourselves and our capabilities, and more of the possibilities that await us.
 
We will never know our potential until we step out in curiosity and explore the unfamiliar paths.
 
I’ve been fortunate to have travelled alone to many countries where I didn’t speak the language and had no idea where I was going or how to get there, but they have been some of the most challenging and exhilarating moments of my life. They forced me to face my fears, be creative in finding my way around and I discovered things about myself that I wouldn’t have known any other way. Those moments have allowed me to paint from a different palette.
 
So be curious, choose the path of the undiscovered, and you will find the capacity to be creative in your life in ways you had never thought possible. You will live with more colour and more passion.
 
Life is a work of art … what will hang in the memories of those whose lives you’ve touched, as brushstrokes of the life you’ve lived?
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    Author

    Glenyss Barnham
    ​I'm a mother and grandmother who loves  discovering beauty in unexpected places.

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